Saturday, March 12, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Willow Tug 300 Finish
I’ve never had to haul three dogs before. Even two was a challenge. Almost everything has to come out of the sled. Luckily I planned for this and have a large food drop bag to load stuff into, then tie that on the back of the sit down sled where we normally carry straw if we are going to camp. Loading Shelby and Sable, the two best performing leaders, has created a crisis in leadership and I sort through the remaining dogs Dallas listed.
Finally I move Ursus, an 8 yr old female, into lead with Lincoln, a hard charging 2 yr old male. Lincoln has been firmly convinced that there is a female in heat in the team (there is in a team ahead of us) and has bothered all the girls he’s run with so far. He tries that on Ursus and she immediately slaps his face. The second time she does it, Lincoln figures she is serious and settles down to business.
We hit the trail with 9 dogs pulling a very heavy, hard to handle sled. Performance is at an all time low. Luckily this is flat river running, but the trail from Deshka Landing to the Tug Bar has lots of little hills, some quite steep and I don’t want to do that with three dogs in the bag. There is a sign-in safety checkpoint at Deshka Landing, but there isn’t supposed to be a dog drop there. I’ll ask anyway. Otherwise I may very well scratch.
It is getting dark as we come into Deshka Landing – I’m looking for Eagle Quest lodge, pull through the parking lot where I thought it was , but don’t see anyone there. There is no sign (or I don’t see one) and it’s hard to stop on a plowed lot anyway so we keep going down onto the road, then pop up on the roadside trail.. We are quickly running down a power line and I see the turn off to the Willow swamp trail. We’ve missed the checkpoint. I debate maters, but discretion is the better part of valor and I turn the team around one more time.
Back in the parking lot the checkers are standing wondering about the foolish musher who blew through. They didn’t have any warning, you come around a corner and there you are. It took them a couple seconds to come out. Good thing I went back. No I can’t drop a dog there – I was going to scratch then, but it just doesn’t feel right. They help me turn around – I ask them to tell Pat Schue, who is waiting for me at the Tug Bar, that I’m still several hours out and traveling slow.
The Willow Swamp loop has a big kiosk with a map where the trail to the community center comes in. The trail to the Tug Bar goes past this on the loop, turning off later. Ursus is knows the trail to the community center, where we left the truck at the start, is a left turn here and that her foolish musher is just going to have to turn the team around again when he figures that out. It took me 10 minutes of dragging the team back to the loop trail to go to the Tug Bar to convince her that even if I was wrong I was more stubborn than she (but it was real close).
A short way down the trail a little dog head pokes out of the sled bag. Shelby is feeling better. I should probably let all three girls out to relieve themselves (before they do it in my sled). Shelby is using all four legs. I walk her on a leash and she looks fine. I flex the leg and find nothing. My spirits pick up substantially – I haven’t injured Dallas’ dog after all. It looks like she was dehydrated had a Charlie horse. I put her in the team towards the back where I can watch her, reload the other two and we are off.
With 10 dogs pulling and 2 riding, we move faster and the lighter sled handles much better. My spirits lift again, the dogs notice the improvement and they pickup. Pretty soon I’m driving the freight train that I had last night and this is fun again. We cruise through the night just having a ball. Funny how you can go from the top of the world to the bottom and back to the top in under 24 hours, but that is life!
As we get to the Iditarod trail we catch and pass the two mushers that had past us while we were resting. Now I’m feeling even better. I have trouble pulling away from them and start running up all the little hills. Slowly that makes the difference. This is racing, even if it is in the middle of the pack, and by golly it is fun!
Two miles from the finish line I find a team camped in the trail – that’s odd. The musher jumps up and asks if I have a spare headlight – hers broke and she has been camped there two hours. She thought she was 10 miles from the finish and is frustrated with herself to find out it is closer to two. Even in the dark she could have walked her team out in an hour.
We finish at 4:02 in the morning – Pat Schue has been waiting for me since 5 PM – the lady has the patience of a saint and I am very grateful for her help and support – it was wonderful. Later that day I called Jen Seavey to report on the dogs and the race. Jen asked me how I finished and I had to tell her ‘I don’t know. Somewhere in the middle I suppose.” Joe May told me once that the right way to run a race was to get your team to the finish line as fast as you were able. When you get there you look around and if nobody else is there, you won. I may not have won, but I was able to run this race that way and it feels pretty good.
Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
PS – we were 12th.
Finally I move Ursus, an 8 yr old female, into lead with Lincoln, a hard charging 2 yr old male. Lincoln has been firmly convinced that there is a female in heat in the team (there is in a team ahead of us) and has bothered all the girls he’s run with so far. He tries that on Ursus and she immediately slaps his face. The second time she does it, Lincoln figures she is serious and settles down to business.
We hit the trail with 9 dogs pulling a very heavy, hard to handle sled. Performance is at an all time low. Luckily this is flat river running, but the trail from Deshka Landing to the Tug Bar has lots of little hills, some quite steep and I don’t want to do that with three dogs in the bag. There is a sign-in safety checkpoint at Deshka Landing, but there isn’t supposed to be a dog drop there. I’ll ask anyway. Otherwise I may very well scratch.
It is getting dark as we come into Deshka Landing – I’m looking for Eagle Quest lodge, pull through the parking lot where I thought it was , but don’t see anyone there. There is no sign (or I don’t see one) and it’s hard to stop on a plowed lot anyway so we keep going down onto the road, then pop up on the roadside trail.. We are quickly running down a power line and I see the turn off to the Willow swamp trail. We’ve missed the checkpoint. I debate maters, but discretion is the better part of valor and I turn the team around one more time.
Back in the parking lot the checkers are standing wondering about the foolish musher who blew through. They didn’t have any warning, you come around a corner and there you are. It took them a couple seconds to come out. Good thing I went back. No I can’t drop a dog there – I was going to scratch then, but it just doesn’t feel right. They help me turn around – I ask them to tell Pat Schue, who is waiting for me at the Tug Bar, that I’m still several hours out and traveling slow.
The Willow Swamp loop has a big kiosk with a map where the trail to the community center comes in. The trail to the Tug Bar goes past this on the loop, turning off later. Ursus is knows the trail to the community center, where we left the truck at the start, is a left turn here and that her foolish musher is just going to have to turn the team around again when he figures that out. It took me 10 minutes of dragging the team back to the loop trail to go to the Tug Bar to convince her that even if I was wrong I was more stubborn than she (but it was real close).
A short way down the trail a little dog head pokes out of the sled bag. Shelby is feeling better. I should probably let all three girls out to relieve themselves (before they do it in my sled). Shelby is using all four legs. I walk her on a leash and she looks fine. I flex the leg and find nothing. My spirits pick up substantially – I haven’t injured Dallas’ dog after all. It looks like she was dehydrated had a Charlie horse. I put her in the team towards the back where I can watch her, reload the other two and we are off.
With 10 dogs pulling and 2 riding, we move faster and the lighter sled handles much better. My spirits lift again, the dogs notice the improvement and they pickup. Pretty soon I’m driving the freight train that I had last night and this is fun again. We cruise through the night just having a ball. Funny how you can go from the top of the world to the bottom and back to the top in under 24 hours, but that is life!
As we get to the Iditarod trail we catch and pass the two mushers that had past us while we were resting. Now I’m feeling even better. I have trouble pulling away from them and start running up all the little hills. Slowly that makes the difference. This is racing, even if it is in the middle of the pack, and by golly it is fun!
Two miles from the finish line I find a team camped in the trail – that’s odd. The musher jumps up and asks if I have a spare headlight – hers broke and she has been camped there two hours. She thought she was 10 miles from the finish and is frustrated with herself to find out it is closer to two. Even in the dark she could have walked her team out in an hour.
We finish at 4:02 in the morning – Pat Schue has been waiting for me since 5 PM – the lady has the patience of a saint and I am very grateful for her help and support – it was wonderful. Later that day I called Jen Seavey to report on the dogs and the race. Jen asked me how I finished and I had to tell her ‘I don’t know. Somewhere in the middle I suppose.” Joe May told me once that the right way to run a race was to get your team to the finish line as fast as you were able. When you get there you look around and if nobody else is there, you won. I may not have won, but I was able to run this race that way and it feels pretty good.
Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
PS – we were 12th.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Willow-Tug 300 Pt 4
With the fast run last night I give the dogs an extra hour of rest and we leave Yentna at 12:20 PM which means we will be running right through the heat of the day. Even when it’s cold, the dogs’ biorhythms seem to bottom out the afternoon. After a performance like last night most teams slow down, and this one is no exception. We are moving steadily, but not impressively downriver.
There is an island in the Susitna at the mouth of the Yentna River and the left turn into the slough we use to go to Willow is a little tricky. I’ve done it lots of times am not concerned. I’m looking for the super bowl on my walkman, but can’t find it when I notice a trail to the left and figure that must be it. There are a couple of side trails off Kroto slough, but now I’m seeing on to the left that goes up a steep bank – and it is staked. I don’t remember leaving the river/slough until we get to Corral Hill.
Something isn’t right – and Mt. Susitna is on my right. That’s correct for the Yentna, but the angle is wrong. The sun is dead ahead – we are going south. But the Yentna flows east. Maybe I should have taken that turn up the bank after all. But I’m still following Knik 200 stakes (they didn’t run that race this year and used a mix of stakes to mark our trail – including K200 and old K300 plus WT300). Ten minutes later I haven’t seen a stake for a while. It must have been that trail up the bank after all. Turn the team around and try it.
As soon as I come up the bank I know where I am – On the Susitna headed for the Dismal Swamp and Flathorn Lake. Typical rookie mistake – I missed the turn to the Susitna going upstream and wound up going downstream instead. I find a wide spot in the trail and turn the team around for the second time (This is actually the shortest way to the Tug Bar / finish line, but cuts out about 30 miles of trail through Willow – it is tempting to just run to the Tug and scratch, but the dogs are supposed to run 300 miles and I don’t like to quit).
Back on the Susitna there is normally a trail that runs upriver and re-joins the race trail on the north side of the Yentna River mouth. I keep looking, but with the new snow I’m not seeing it. I see another trail to the right (north) and take it, only to watch it smoothly merge into the southbound trail I’d just left. I turn the team around for the third time. The dogs give me a “Are you sure?” look..
Finally I’m way back on the Yentna and see the trail I should have taken – and the turn is well marked. Some yahoo driving the sled just wasn’t paying attention and was counting on his lead dogs too much. We won’t mention any names J.
We are back on then Susitna headed north to Willow, but the three turn arounds, my confusion, and the heat of the day have taken the spark out of the team. Sable, who lead for the first part of the race has had enough and quits. I make room in the sled, tying gear on the back, load her. I call “hike” and Soleil lies down. Ok, I’ll load Soleil also. We are moving down the trail, but the dogs are not really enjoying it. I start to get frustrated and realize my mistakes have added two hours to an already long run that is just too much to ask of this team – there are young dogs here on their first race. I need to keep it fun.
Enough is enough. I pull off to the side of this 50 foot wide trail, set up camp, and fix the team a nice hot meal. Dallas always brings his leaders back to the sled to rest to tell them they are off duty. As I lead Shelby (one of his main girls) back she is a three legged dog, not using her right rear leg. Shoot! Now I’ve injured one of Dallas’ main leaders and have three dogs haul. The old self-esteem meter drops into the basement and the fun meter follows quickly. The two teams that pass while we are resting don’t help that any. I had not intended to be competitive, but I was looking forward to finishing Sunday night and getting a good night’s sleep. Now it looks like Monday morning.
Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
There is an island in the Susitna at the mouth of the Yentna River and the left turn into the slough we use to go to Willow is a little tricky. I’ve done it lots of times am not concerned. I’m looking for the super bowl on my walkman, but can’t find it when I notice a trail to the left and figure that must be it. There are a couple of side trails off Kroto slough, but now I’m seeing on to the left that goes up a steep bank – and it is staked. I don’t remember leaving the river/slough until we get to Corral Hill.
Something isn’t right – and Mt. Susitna is on my right. That’s correct for the Yentna, but the angle is wrong. The sun is dead ahead – we are going south. But the Yentna flows east. Maybe I should have taken that turn up the bank after all. But I’m still following Knik 200 stakes (they didn’t run that race this year and used a mix of stakes to mark our trail – including K200 and old K300 plus WT300). Ten minutes later I haven’t seen a stake for a while. It must have been that trail up the bank after all. Turn the team around and try it.
As soon as I come up the bank I know where I am – On the Susitna headed for the Dismal Swamp and Flathorn Lake. Typical rookie mistake – I missed the turn to the Susitna going upstream and wound up going downstream instead. I find a wide spot in the trail and turn the team around for the second time (This is actually the shortest way to the Tug Bar / finish line, but cuts out about 30 miles of trail through Willow – it is tempting to just run to the Tug and scratch, but the dogs are supposed to run 300 miles and I don’t like to quit).
Back on the Susitna there is normally a trail that runs upriver and re-joins the race trail on the north side of the Yentna River mouth. I keep looking, but with the new snow I’m not seeing it. I see another trail to the right (north) and take it, only to watch it smoothly merge into the southbound trail I’d just left. I turn the team around for the third time. The dogs give me a “Are you sure?” look..
Finally I’m way back on the Yentna and see the trail I should have taken – and the turn is well marked. Some yahoo driving the sled just wasn’t paying attention and was counting on his lead dogs too much. We won’t mention any names J.
We are back on then Susitna headed north to Willow, but the three turn arounds, my confusion, and the heat of the day have taken the spark out of the team. Sable, who lead for the first part of the race has had enough and quits. I make room in the sled, tying gear on the back, load her. I call “hike” and Soleil lies down. Ok, I’ll load Soleil also. We are moving down the trail, but the dogs are not really enjoying it. I start to get frustrated and realize my mistakes have added two hours to an already long run that is just too much to ask of this team – there are young dogs here on their first race. I need to keep it fun.
Enough is enough. I pull off to the side of this 50 foot wide trail, set up camp, and fix the team a nice hot meal. Dallas always brings his leaders back to the sled to rest to tell them they are off duty. As I lead Shelby (one of his main girls) back she is a three legged dog, not using her right rear leg. Shoot! Now I’ve injured one of Dallas’ main leaders and have three dogs haul. The old self-esteem meter drops into the basement and the fun meter follows quickly. The two teams that pass while we are resting don’t help that any. I had not intended to be competitive, but I was looking forward to finishing Sunday night and getting a good night’s sleep. Now it looks like Monday morning.
Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Willow-Tug 300 Pt 3
Brrrr. It is 3:30 AM and it’s chilly outside. I laid down for 3 hours at Yentna, but didn’t sleep. But this is a race and it’s time to get ready to go. Pry myself off the foldout recliner bed (real luxury at a checkpoint), get dressed and venture into the night. The dog lot is a hot bed of activity as mushers come off their mandatory 6 hour rest and prepare to leave. The thermometer on my sled reads -20, so much for the forecast -10 for tonight! I finish booting the dogs and hear a shout. Lots of activity by the outgoing trail, but I can’t tell what is happening.
In this race we must check in and out of each checkpoint. There was a checker here a minute ago, but now I can’t find one. I walk down to the tent “checkpoint” and both checkers are holding a dog team without a musher in sight. So that was the excitement. Some poor guy hooking up had his team run off without him. Luckily they stopped it before it ran to Skwentna! One of the checkers comes back to sign me out and help me find a way around the other dog team without exciting them so they pull the hook again, while the musher waits out his mandatory rest. Of course that means threading our way through the other teams that are still resting here. Never a dull moment.
With the new snow, the trail up the river is still pretty much in a trench about 4 feet wide. Passing will still be an issue. Temperatures are holding at -20 with clear skies and too many stars to count. Every now and then the Northern Lights come out faintly on the horizon. The dogs quickly settle into a nice Iditarod trot and we cruise smoothly down the trail. Most of the way to Skwentna a freight train comes barreling out of the night and passes us head on – the lead team in the race. Later I found out it was Bob Bundtzen on his way to his first win – he sure looked good.
A few more passes and we reach Skwentna, go up the Yentna River, cut across past the roadhouse and airport and onto the Skwentna River in front of Joe and Norma Delia’s, then downriver and back to Yentna – the first time. I promised the dogs a nice rest at Skwentna, but can’t find a place to pull off the trail with the deep snow. We had got stick behind another tangle near the airport, and by the time they cleared it (two teams), my team had lost steam. About 30 minutes later I found a side snowmachine track, turned the team onto it, fired up the cooker, and settled into a the 3 hour rest I had promised them.
The trip back to Yentna was uneventful. But the snowmachine traffic going up river was incredible. It looked like they were making snowmachines in Anchorage and shipping the entire lot to Skwentna in one day. There were no passing problems; everyone was blasting through the fresh snow and having a ball. By the time I got back to Yentna, out 4 foot wide trail was more like 300 feet wide.
We parked in the same spot we had last night and had another bale of straw on top of the first one. For 12 dogs this was pure luxury. After caring for the dogs I went back to the lodge – this time sleeping (or unsuccessfully trying) on the floor. But it was warm. When I left home the forecast was to cloud up and warm up on Saturday. It stayed clear and beautiful, and now they tell us it will be colder than last night!
I’m up at 8:30 PM, but have trouble really getting motivated. It’s -20 and dropping down on the river so I dig out the foxtails and belly wraps to protect sensitive spots from frostbite. With all the putzing around I’m 45 minutes late getting out, but we are not trying to be competitive and that’s ok.
We move up the river and the night sky is more beautiful than even last night. The cold clear air shows more stars and the lights come and go in fascinating displays. The dogs seem to feel it and are pumped for this run. I keep slowing them down, but they insist on a fast, smooth 10 mph trot – very different from the previous run. Teams are like that. When they feel righteous, they are very impressive. We fly through the night and I wish for a couple of hills to run up to generate some warmth. In no time at all we are through Skwentna and headed back to Yentna. This time I only stop for 20 minutes to snack and let them blow off steam.
About 3 AM we hit the witching hour and my lack of sleep catches up with me. Every time I blink or yawn I fall asleep for a few seconds – the fear is that sleep may not be the only thing falling. Several times I jerk awake just as I start to slip off the sled. The dogs run fast, but time slows to a crawl. I check my watch and it’s 3:15 AM. Half an hour later I check again and it’s 3:20 AM. I’m torn between admiration for the dogs and exhaustion. Luckily we have several more head to head passes to help keep me awake. We pull in at 5:15 Sunday morning and this time I’m tired enough I do get an hour of sleep.
Keep 'em Northbound
Eric
In this race we must check in and out of each checkpoint. There was a checker here a minute ago, but now I can’t find one. I walk down to the tent “checkpoint” and both checkers are holding a dog team without a musher in sight. So that was the excitement. Some poor guy hooking up had his team run off without him. Luckily they stopped it before it ran to Skwentna! One of the checkers comes back to sign me out and help me find a way around the other dog team without exciting them so they pull the hook again, while the musher waits out his mandatory rest. Of course that means threading our way through the other teams that are still resting here. Never a dull moment.
With the new snow, the trail up the river is still pretty much in a trench about 4 feet wide. Passing will still be an issue. Temperatures are holding at -20 with clear skies and too many stars to count. Every now and then the Northern Lights come out faintly on the horizon. The dogs quickly settle into a nice Iditarod trot and we cruise smoothly down the trail. Most of the way to Skwentna a freight train comes barreling out of the night and passes us head on – the lead team in the race. Later I found out it was Bob Bundtzen on his way to his first win – he sure looked good.
A few more passes and we reach Skwentna, go up the Yentna River, cut across past the roadhouse and airport and onto the Skwentna River in front of Joe and Norma Delia’s, then downriver and back to Yentna – the first time. I promised the dogs a nice rest at Skwentna, but can’t find a place to pull off the trail with the deep snow. We had got stick behind another tangle near the airport, and by the time they cleared it (two teams), my team had lost steam. About 30 minutes later I found a side snowmachine track, turned the team onto it, fired up the cooker, and settled into a the 3 hour rest I had promised them.
The trip back to Yentna was uneventful. But the snowmachine traffic going up river was incredible. It looked like they were making snowmachines in Anchorage and shipping the entire lot to Skwentna in one day. There were no passing problems; everyone was blasting through the fresh snow and having a ball. By the time I got back to Yentna, out 4 foot wide trail was more like 300 feet wide.
We parked in the same spot we had last night and had another bale of straw on top of the first one. For 12 dogs this was pure luxury. After caring for the dogs I went back to the lodge – this time sleeping (or unsuccessfully trying) on the floor. But it was warm. When I left home the forecast was to cloud up and warm up on Saturday. It stayed clear and beautiful, and now they tell us it will be colder than last night!
I’m up at 8:30 PM, but have trouble really getting motivated. It’s -20 and dropping down on the river so I dig out the foxtails and belly wraps to protect sensitive spots from frostbite. With all the putzing around I’m 45 minutes late getting out, but we are not trying to be competitive and that’s ok.
We move up the river and the night sky is more beautiful than even last night. The cold clear air shows more stars and the lights come and go in fascinating displays. The dogs seem to feel it and are pumped for this run. I keep slowing them down, but they insist on a fast, smooth 10 mph trot – very different from the previous run. Teams are like that. When they feel righteous, they are very impressive. We fly through the night and I wish for a couple of hills to run up to generate some warmth. In no time at all we are through Skwentna and headed back to Yentna. This time I only stop for 20 minutes to snack and let them blow off steam.
About 3 AM we hit the witching hour and my lack of sleep catches up with me. Every time I blink or yawn I fall asleep for a few seconds – the fear is that sleep may not be the only thing falling. Several times I jerk awake just as I start to slip off the sled. The dogs run fast, but time slows to a crawl. I check my watch and it’s 3:15 AM. Half an hour later I check again and it’s 3:20 AM. I’m torn between admiration for the dogs and exhaustion. Luckily we have several more head to head passes to help keep me awake. We pull in at 5:15 Sunday morning and this time I’m tired enough I do get an hour of sleep.
Keep 'em Northbound
Eric
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